


I Am The Idiot With The Painted Face

by oliviathecf



Series: Hal's Birthday, 2019 [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Earth-3, Knifeplay, M/M, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Rough Sex, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17857265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: Owlman finds out that their birthdays are around the same time, despite Harold's best efforts. They can celebrate together.





	I Am The Idiot With The Painted Face

**Author's Note:**

> Love me some Earth-3.
> 
> Title is from Me And My Husband by Mitski.
> 
> Enjoy!

There was a lot that Harold tried so desperately to keep from the monsters around him. They already saw him as weak, any more personal information they knew about him would just add to the torture he faced every day. His birthday was no exception to this rule, there wasn’t going to be an office party with a cake or some impersonal presents, they would always find an excuse to hurt him.

When Owlman called him in for a meeting, he thought nothing of it. There was no way that he could’ve found out, he had kept it a secret for so long, he was in the clear.

He should’ve been worried when he walked into the meeting room and Owlman was the only person in there. Harold should’ve been even more worried when he saw Harold and _smiled_ , pushing the cowl off of his face. His cigarette dangled from curled lips, and Harold’s knees hit the floor before he could stop himself.

Like he was a well trained dog.

Thomas pulled the cigarette from his lips, flicking off the ash in Harold’s general direction, but not approaching. He was busy with a screen in front of him, flicking through it.

“Did you know that my birthday is today, Power Ring?” He said in that quiet, terrifying voice of his.

Harold shivered, eyes going wide.

“I-I...I didn’t, s-sir.”  
“And what do you say to someone on their birthday, Power Ring?”

He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on the lump in his throat.

“H-Happy Birthday, sir.”  
“That’s right. And happy birthday to you as well.”

Of course Owlman had found out. Harold let out a soft gasp, and Volthoom laughed on his finger, that terrible sound. Had Volthoom been the one to tell someone, whispering it in Owlman’s ear?

“T-Thank you.” He whimpered, and Owlman laughed.  
“It wasn’t easy to find that, I had to have one of my Talons steal your birth certificate. Now why would you want to hide this from me?”

It wasn’t a question that needed an answer, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. He knew that Thomas didn’t want an answer, eyes falling to the floor as Thomas stood up from his seat. He approached Harold, hand landing hard on the back of his neck.

“I think we should celebrate.” He said and Harold started to cry in earnest, nodding because he was in no position to refuse.

Pets didn’t get to say no after all, and that was all that he was. Just a collared animal, like any one of Thomas’ Talons or whatever girl he decided he wanted in Gotham, he was a belonging. Just a part of his collection. When Thomas hauled him up, he had no choice but to comply, letting himself get tossed over the meeting table.

It was, unsurprisingly, a very familiar sight. Laying back on the table, looking up at a member of the Syndicate that was allowed to consider themself as a human. Thomas hooked a gloved finger in the front of his costume, tugging until it yielded, ripping neatly down the middle. He tore and tore until the only thing that remained was the scraps and the sleeve that covered his gnarled, throbbing arm.

He was soft but growing harder just under Owlman’s eyes and from the hands splaying out over his thighs, pushing them open wide and stepping between them.

“You are a pretty thing.” Thomas murmured, digging into his skin with the sharp nails of his gloves to draw blood.

Harold cried out and that seemed to satisfy him, pulling his claws out and smearing the blood all around his thighs like he was a painting. Something to hang up on Thomas’ wall in that huge mansion of his, an object to look at.

He didn’t want to give Owlman any ideas.

Thomas ended up flipping him over onto his back, pulling his cock out of his pants and rubbing in between his ass cheeks, threatening to push into his dry hole with every push of his hips. Harold let out a wordless moan, throwing his head back. Each motion of Owlman’s hips just pushed his cock against the table, leaking out pre-cum in a way that made the slide easier. 

When his head went to droop down, he found it stopped by a knife pressing up against his skin, drawing a thin red line on his deathly pale skin.

“Beg me to kill you.” Owlman hissed in his ear  
“O-Oh G-God, please. Please k-kill me!” He cried out, and figured that there was a part of his words that was completely true.

He wanted Owlman to just do it already. Cut and cut and _cut_ , until his head fell on the table in front of him and he was freed from this terrible world. Instead, Owlman laughed and leaned back, spitting noisily on his hole once, twice, and sliding in cruelly.

“You’d like that too much.” He laughed again, and Harold flinched at the sound of it, cried at the feeling of being penetrated.

It hurt but it always hurt, it would always hurt. Harold could only clench hard like he was trying to force Thomas’ cock out of his body, hanging on to the edge of the table hard enough to break his short nails on it. Owlman didn’t bother to stop and let him get used to it, fucking him hard like he wanted Harold to break in half.

“F-Fuck! O-Owlman!”  
“Tell me that you like it.” Thomas said, almost starting to sound breathless.  
“I-I like it!”

The sick part was that he did like it. Hard cock trapped between his body and the table, rubbing in a way that had him moaning and crying out for it. Owlman’s cock was unyielding and huge inside of him, the friction making his eyes go crossed. Those claws dug into the soft skin of his ass, and his eyes rolled back into his head, letting out a series of incoherent moans.

When he came, he came hard, practically howling with it. Harold’s cum splattered across the table, and Thomas hadn’t even touched him, he didn’t need to. He wasn’t anywhere near done as well, continuing to fuck into him hard and fast, the knife at his throat never leaving its spot until he was at the edge. Erratic thrusts grew even more erratic, punishing Harold’s oversensitive body.

Thomas threw the knife across the table, grabbing Harold’s neck with his hand and hauling him up. When he came, he bit the back of his neck hard enough to draw blood, muffling a groan into his torn flesh. Thomas didn’t hold him there, throwing him down onto the table without any care.

He was used and he was discarded, and that was how it was. He looked up at Thomas, who looked like he hardly broken a sweat, watching as he lifted a cigarette to his lips. Harold raised his ring and, for a second, he thought about doing it. Getting it over with, killing him right where he stood.

Instead, his ring sparked green and Thomas lit his cigarette off of its power, puffing smoke past slacked lips.

Maybe, next birthday, Harold could get himself the present that he really wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave some hate (or love), either here or on my various social media pages. 
> 
> [ Fic Blog ](http://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)   
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